The Hiltons’ Holiday Page #2

"The Hiltons’ Holiday" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a charming short story that captures the essence of family dynamics and the joys of rural life. Set against the backdrop of a small New England town, the narrative follows the Hilton family as they embark on a holiday adventure. Through rich characterizations and vivid descriptions, Jewett explores themes of tradition, community, and the simple pleasures found in nature and familial connections. The story reflects the author's signature style, combining warmth and humor while offering insights into the everyday lives of her characters.

• Short story

								

was never prepared for his wife’s mysterious powers of divination. “Well
there, you do find things out the master! I only thought perhaps I’d
take ’em to-morrow, an’ go off somewhere if ’twas a good day. I’ve been
promisin’ for a good while I’d take ’em to Topham Corners; they’ve never
been there since they was very small.”

“I believe you want a good time yourself. You ain’t never got over bein’
a boy.” Mrs. Hilton seemed much amused. “There, go if you want to an’
take ’em; they’ve got their summer hats an’ new dresses. I don’t know o’
nothin’ that stands in the way. I should sense it better if there was a
circus or anythin’ to go to. Why don’t you wait an’ let the girls pick
’em some strawberries or nice ros’berries, and then they could take an’
sell ’em to the stores?”

John Hilton reflected deeply. “I should like to get me some good
yellow-turnip seed to plant late. I ain’t more ’n satisfied with what
I’ve been gettin’ o’ late years o’ Ira Speed. An’ I’m goin’ to provide
me with a good hoe; mine ’s gettin’ wore out an’ all shackly. I can’t
seem to fix it good.”

“Them’s excuses,” observed Mrs. Hilton, with friendly tolerance. “You
just cover up the hoe with somethin’, if you get it—I would. Ira Speed
’s so jealous he’ll remember it of you this twenty year, your goin’ an’
buyin’ a new hoe o’ anybody but him.”

“I’ve always thought ’twas a free country,” said John Hilton soberly. “I
don’t want to vex Ira neither; he favors us all he can in trade. ’Tis
difficult for him to spare a cent, but he’s as honest as daylight.”

At this moment there was a sudden sound of young voices, and a pair of
young figures came out from the shadow of the woods into the moonlighted
open space. An old cock crowed loudly from his perch in the shed, as if
he were a herald of royalty. The little girls were hand in hand, and a
brisk young dog capered about them as they came.

“Wa’n’t it dark gittin’ home through the woods this time o’ night?”
asked the mother hastily, and not without reproach.

“I don’t love to have you gone so late; mother an’ me was timid about
ye, and you’ve kep’ Mis’ Becker’s folks up, I expect,” said their father
regretfully. “I don’t want to have it said that my little girls ain’t
got good manners.”

“The teacher had a party,” chirped Susan Ellen, the elder of the two
children. “Goin’ home from school she asked the Grover boys, an’ Mary
an’ Sarah Speed. An’ Mis’ Becker was real pleasant to us: she passed
round some cake, an’ handed us sap sugar on one of her best plates, an’
we played games an’ sung some pieces too. Mis’ Becker thought we did
real well. I can pick out most of a tune on the cabinet organ; teacher
says she’ll give me lessons.”

“I want to know, dear!” exclaimed John Hilton.

“Yes, an’ we played Copenhagen, an’ took sides spellin’, an’ Katy beat
everybody spellin’ there was there.”

Katy had not spoken; she was not so strong as her sister, and while
Susan Ellen stood a step or two away addressing her eager little
audience, Katy had seated herself close to her father on the doorstep.
He put his arm around her shoulders, and drew her close to his side,
where she stayed.

“Ain’t you got nothin’ to tell, daughter?” he asked, looking down
fondly; and Katy gave a pleased little sigh for answer.

“Tell ’em what’s goin’ to be the last day o’ school, and about our
trimmin’ the schoolhouse,” she said; and Susan Ellen gave the programme
in most spirited fashion.

“’Twill be a great time,” said the mother, when she had finished. “I
don’t see why folks wants to go trapesin’ off to strange places when
such things is happenin’ right about ’em.” But the children did not
observe her mysterious air. “Come, you must step yourselves right to
bed!”

They all went into the dark, warm house; the bright moon shone upon it
steadily all night, and the lilac flowers were shaken by no breath of
wind until the early dawn.

                                  II.

The Hiltons always waked early. So did their neighbors, the crows and
song-sparrows and robins, the light-footed foxes and squirrels in the
woods. When John Hilton waked, before five o’clock, an hour later than
usual because he had sat up so late, he opened the house door and came
out into the yard, crossing the short green turf hurriedly as if the day
were too far spent for any loitering. The magnitude of the plan for
taking a whole day of pleasure confronted him seriously, but the weather
was fair, and his wife, whose disapproval could not have been set aside,
had accepted and even smiled upon the great project. It was inevitable
now, that he and the children should go to Topham Corners. Mrs. Hilton
had the pleasure of waking them, and telling the news.

In a few minutes they came frisking out to talk over the great plans.
The cattle were already fed, and their father was milking. The only sign
of high festivity was the wagon pulled out into the yard, with both
seats put in as if it were Sunday; but Mr. Hilton still wore his
every-day clothes, and Susan Ellen suffered instantly from
disappointment.

“Ain’t we goin’, father?” she asked complainingly; but he nodded and
smiled at her, even though the cow, impatient to get to pasture, kept
whisking her rough tail across his face. He held his head down and spoke
cheerfully, in spite of this vexation.

“Yes, sister, we’re goin’ certain’, an’ goin’ to have a great time too.”
Susan Ellen thought that he seemed like a boy at that delightful moment,
and felt new sympathy and pleasure at once. “You go an’ help mother
about breakfast an’ them things; we want to get off quick ’s we can. You
coax mother now, both on ye, an’ see if she won’t go with us.”

“She said she wouldn’t be hired to,” responded Susan Ellen. “She says
it’s goin’ to be hot, an’ she’s laid out to go over an’ see how her aunt
Tamsen Brooks is this afternoon.”

The father gave a little sigh; then he took heart again. The truth was
that his wife made light of the contemplated pleasure, and, much as he
usually valued her companionship and approval, he was sure that they
should have a better time without her. It was impossible, however, not
to feel guilty of disloyalty at the thought. Even though she might be
completely unconscious of his best ideals, he only loved her and the
ideals the more, and bent his energies to satisfying her indefinite
expectations. His wife still kept much of that youthful beauty which
Susan Ellen seemed likely to reproduce.

An hour later the best wagon was ready, and the great expedition set
forth. The little dog sat apart, and barked as if it fell entirely upon
him to voice the general excitement. Both seats were in the wagon, but
the empty place testified to Mrs. Hilton’s unyielding disposition. She
had wondered why one broad seat would not do, but John Hilton meekly
suggested that the wagon looked better with both. The little girls sat
on the back seat dressed alike in their Sunday hats of straw with blue
ribbons, and their little plaid shawls pinned neatly about their small
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